


Sweet & Spice

by pensively



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Domesticity, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Old Married Couple, Old Married Spirk Challenge, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 13:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8447866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensively/pseuds/pensively
Summary: After years spent in space, Jim and Spock have settled in San Francisco to teach at Starfleet Academy and enjoy their golden years together. While a part of Jim will always yearn to be among the stars with his beloved, he has found peace and contentment in the quiet domestic life they share.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://plaidshirtjimkirk.tumblr.com/post/119346569721/oms-with-spock-teaching-at-the-starfleet-academy) Tumblr post.
> 
> Thank you to [druxykexy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/druxykexy) and my dear friend AB for the excellent beta help and support. Any errors which remain are my own. 
> 
> Written for the [OMS Challenge](http://oldmarriedspirk.tumblr.com/). Thank you to [plaidshirtjimkirk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidshirtjimkirk/pseuds/plaidshirtjimkirk) for running the challenge. <3
> 
> And thank you to [Ro](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RowanBaines/pseuds/RowanBaines) for the wonderful art! <3\. [Go check it out!](http://rowan-baines.tumblr.com/post/152690456541/for-the-lovely-fic-sweet-spice-by) <3

The old metal screen door banged shut behind Jim as he stepped down into the small white-fenced backyard behind the victorian row house he shared with Spock. Arranged along the fence were raised garden beds of varying heights in which dark, rich soil was contained by salvaged wooden railroad ties which had been sealed for protection against the elements but otherwise left to their rustic appearance. Starting on the left, Jim methodically went through the garden beds, cleaning up the last of the debris from the warm weather crops before checking on the new fall plants. He ran his fingers over tender, dark green lacinato kale leaves and peeked beneath the tiny sprigs of green atop the baby carrots. The sun was high in the cloudless azure sky and it shone pleasantly on Jim's shoulders as he worked, a gentle caress of warmth against the crisp chill in the autumn air. 

Jim had delivered a lecture to a packed auditorium at the Academy that morning and was now free to putter about the house and garden until Spock returned from teaching his own classes. Such activities would probably have bored him senseless years ago, when all he’d longed for was a ship to captain and new things to discover, but now that he’d settled into life on Earth he found peace and contentment in the life he and Spock had built as bond-mates.

Though land was at a premium in San Francisco and the yard behind their "painted lady" was barely larger than his old quarters above the _Enterprise_ , Spock's meticulous planning had yielded a colorful garden that kept the two of them well-supplied with fresh produce through much of the year. Jim still preferred a juicy steak to a salad, but he felt keenly the need to ensure his bond-mate's dietary requirements were met and found a kind of satisfaction in sharing the fruits of his labors. Seeing Spock not only healthy, but able to enjoy the meals they prepared together from their own garden made it well worth his effort. 

He ambled over to the largest raised bed on the right and knelt to check on the Baby Pams. Spock's favorite pumpkins were clustered around the gnarled vine beneath chartreuse leaves that Jim parted with gentle hands. He selected the finest looking gourd in the bunch and pressed his thumbnail into the bright orange skin, finding it resistant to puncture and suitably ripe. He pulled the heavy-duty pruning shears from his back pocket and clipped the pumpkin from the vine while holding the thick tan stem in the palm of his hand and curling his fingers around it in a firm grip. Jim's knees creaked as he rose from his kneeling position and he pressed his free hand against the small of his back as he squinted into the sun, noting its position as he thought through a recipe. If he started _right now_ , he could have a nice surprise ready for Spock when he returned home.

Jim grinned to himself as he brushed the dirt from his knees, then crossed the yard to the back door. He opened the screen door and grasped the victorian bronze door knob, worn smooth by hundreds of years of use. Bumping his shoulder against the door as he pushed, it opened with a whine and Jim made a mental note to oil the hinges later. He deposited the pumpkin on the butcher block kitchen island and dropped his pruning shears and unused garden gloves in the vintage brass milk pail kept by the door for that very purpose. 

After rinsing and drying the pumpkin, Jim wiped down the butcher block in preparation for use. He fetched his reading glasses and pulled out a well-used cookbook that had been given to them as a housewarming gift when he and Spock had settled in San Francisco and bought the bright blue row house in Haight Ashbury. Jim smoothed his fingers over the glossy pages, flipping through them until he reached the recipe for maple-glazed pumpkin muffins.

The previous owner of the book had been one of Spock's protégés from the _Enterprise_ , a brilliant chemist who might've been a gourmet chef in a different life. Their dishes had always been in high demand at crew celebrations. Before leaving to take their post leading a team of scientists on a remote deep space laboratory, the newly made Commander Demi Stafford had stopped by for tea and to pay their respects to their old mentor. They’d insisted that Jim and Spock take the treasured cookbook, complete with Demi's handwritten notes in the margins. 

Jim adjusted his reading glasses and perused the recipe, noting the thoughtfully annotated instructions to alter the recipe to be more suitable for a Vulcan's dietary needs. He then turned to pre-heat the antique oven and pull out the oversized muffin tin before fetching ingredients, bustling about the kitchen as he opened cupboards and rifled through drawers. Once everything was in place, he picked up a chef's knife and sliced off the top of the pumpkin, dropping it into the ceramic compost bin under the butcher block top. He cut the pumpkin in half and then half again, scraping the gooey innards out with a wooden spoon and disposing of them, then placing the clean wedges on a baking sheet and putting them in the oven to roast. 

He puttered around the kitchen as he waited, tidying up the mess he’d made and making himself a small lunch. His PADD beeped to alert him to a new message. It was Spock, letting Jim know that he'd been asked to assist a colleague with a small project and would be approximately twenty-seven minutes late arriving home. 

Jim smiled to himself and let his focus shift to the warmth of the bond in the back of his mind. Being psi null, as most humans were, he was unable to communicate telepathically with Spock outside a meld, but over the years he'd learned to push feelings toward the place where Spock's mind touched his own. He did so now, hoping to convey to Spock that he loved him, missed his presence, and would be glad to see him when his work was done. 

Spock responded almost instantly, flooding Jim with warmth and love. Jim sensed Spock's eagerness to see him and felt an answering eagerness with an edge of sexual anticipation rise up within himself. He imagined Spock entering their home and coming straight to Jim's side before doing anything else, touching his fingers to Jim's in the _ozh'esta_ as their lips met in a kiss. After all these years, they still couldn't get enough of one another. 

The oven let out a loud _ding_ , jarring Jim from his thoughts. He walked over, stopping to retrieve a blue gingham potholder, and withdrew the roasted pumpkin wedges. He peeled away the shriveled skin and deposited the steaming pumpkin flesh in the food processor to puree. While he waited for the puree to cool, Jim measured out the other ingredients. It was the work of moments to combine everything into a rich orange batter he couldn't resist sampling before filling the waiting muffin tin and placing it in the oven.

Jim started the maple glaze, watching it carefully and stirring in slow, smooth strokes until it reached the desired consistency. He set it aside and leaned over to peek into the oven at the rising muffins. A gust of hot air laden with the warm scent of pumpkin spice blew into his face as he pulled the door down. The rounded muffin-tops were just beginning to brown and Jim estimated they would need only a few more minutes in the oven. He smiled with satisfaction, and stood straight, closing the oven door with a clang. 

He felt Spock’s mental presence even before he heard him enter the room and Jim turned to look at his bond-mate with loving eyes. Spock stood tall and austere in his instructor’s uniform, a slim briefcase hanging from one hand. As Jim had expected, Spock had come straight to the kitchen upon entering the house. He walked over to Spock with a grin, pulling the briefcase from his hand and dropping it on the floor to lean close and kiss his husband. Jim felt Spock’s arms come around him as they kissed, their lips moving slowly together. They kissed as if they’d been apart for much longer than mere hours, love and desire flowing through their link. Jim was half-hard and he could feel Spock’s burgeoning arousal through his uniform trousers. He reached down to stroke the front placket of Spock’s pants, cupping the hardness he found there. Spock grunted softly into their kiss, instinctively thrusting his hips forward to press his erection into Jim’s hand.

The oven _dinged_.

Spock broke their kiss to look at Jim with heated eyes. “While I would not be averse to continuing, I believe we would prefer to avoid burning what you are baking. It smells quite pleasant.”

“Dammit, the muffins. Hold that thought, Spock. Don’t go anywhere.”

Spock lifted an eyebrow, leaning down to pick up the discarded briefcase and place it on the counter. “I have no plans to do so.”

Jim hurried to open the oven, grabbing the potholder as he went. He quickly pulled out the muffin pan, gratified to see that the muffins were perfectly brown on top. Turning off the oven, he placed a dishtowel on the countertop and the pan on the towel, then drizzled the maple glaze generously over the piping hot muffins.

Jim looked over as Spock came up beside him and leaned closer to inhale the sweet scent. 

“Commander Stafford’s recipe,” he inquired.

“Yes, and one of your Baby Pams, fresh from the garden.”

“They look very pleasing, Jim, and I am certain they will be quite delicious. Thank you.”

Jim touched his fingers to Spock’s and looked up at him, smiling coyly. “You’re welcome, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait to try one. We have some unfinished business, Mr. Spock.”

Spock’s eyes darkened with desire once more. “Yes, I believe we do,” he murmured as he leaned down to capture Jim’s lips.

***

Much later that evening, Jim plodded downstairs in boxers and an undershirt and found Spock in the kitchen clad in a simple white robe placing all of the muffins in a container save one, which rested on a small round plate.

“Jim,” he acknowledged without turning.

“Spock,” Jim replied, coming to his bond-mate’s side and touching his fingers in a Vulcan kiss. 

“I did not wish the muffins to become stale, sitting out overnight. I thought also to sample one. Would you share with me?”

“Sure,” Jim said. “I’ll warm it up, although it’s not quite the same out of the microwave as it is fresh out of the oven.”

“The difference is minimal, and given the option I would not have changed the way we chose to spend our evening,” Spock said.

After reheating the muffin, Jim led the way over to their cherrywood dining table and took a seat, pleased to feel Spock at his side as he took the chair closest to Jim. Jim cut off a bite and and offered the fork to Spock, who accepted and chewed thoughtfully. A low thrum of pleasure drifted across the bond. It wasn’t sexual, but the simple enjoyment of good food and beloved company.

“As I expected, it is quite delicious. Thank you, Jim.”

“My pleasure, Spock,” Jim said, selecting a bite for himself. The warm muffin was rich, moist, and spicy-sweet. They continued in this way, with Jim surreptitiously giving Spock larger bites than he gave himself, until the plate was bare but for a scattering of brown-orange crumbs. 

Jim leaned over to kiss Spock, savoring the pumpkin spice on his lips. “Why don’t you go up to bed. I’ll clean up and be there in a minute.”

“I will assist you and we can go together, _t’hy’la_.”

Jim just grinned, feeling Spock’s determination as he heard his words. “All right then, let’s go get it done.”

They made quick work of the kitchen and were soon comfortably curled up in their bed with Spock behind Jim, holding him close. Spock placed a kiss on the sensitive spot behind Jim’s ear and murmured, “It was thoughtful of you to bake for me today.”

“Anytime,” Jim replied sleepily. “I like doing things for you.”

“The human concept of using food to show affection...I believe it is well conceived.”

“Mmm,” Jim said, tugging Spock’s arm more tightly over his body. “I’ve always thought so.”


End file.
